'I came here to find myself, but instead I found you,' Mark whispered, amidst the soft sounds of the waves caressing the golden sands and dulcet tones bungalowed Australian tourists.
As the warm sun set over her shoulder and she romantically offered him the last French Fry, her rich emerald eyes and thought of how lucky he was to be so far from Carlisle and the late night shelf-stacking at the last bastion of the Woolworths empire.
Later that night with only a thin layer of latex soon to separate them, Steve whispered to Mark: 'your turn next.' At first Mark was horrified but as the sound of the wind in the palms swept the air he threw caution to the wind and moved to kiss it.
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